Monday, July 13, 2009

for Blaise Bartu

While it was raining

I told you

that i must taste like salt

and if you mind it

i can step outside

to come back wet

and return to bed

curling into a cocoon

and feeling the sheets stick

to the slick slick coolness

of my summer morning skin

————

when it stopped raining

you told me

you were moving back west

needing to be somewhere open

you mumbled something

about stinking humidity

I didnt mind missing the words

as I watched you

looking in the mirror

running a hand through your hair

clearly hating the way it curled 

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